Rated: G
     This is another old story I wrote back in high school. There’s not much to it, but it amuses me. I hope you get a laugh out of it, too.
     – Java

     Little Timmy snuggled into his nice, warm bed, letting Mommy tuck in the covers, and accepting her kiss goodnight. His father kissed him good night, also, and then withdrew from his room, shutting out the lights.
     Timmy lay alone in his room, staring at the strange shadows the eerie blue glow of his nightlight cast about the room. He heard Mommy and Daddy going to bed. He lay awake as the house grew slowly quiet, staring at the shadows. Looking around his room, he began to think that perhaps blue had not been such a good choice in colors for his nightlight. It was a very big deal to pick a new nightlight color. His Mommy let him choose from the Christmas light bulbs. There was red, or green, or gold, or white. Occasionally there was an orange left over from Halloween. Sometimes there was a purple or a pink from Easter, but pink was a girly color, and he let his little sister have those. In fact, she had one now.
     The last nightlight had been a lovely gold. It had touched the objects in his room with a gentle glow, making the darkness almost good. It had been a nice light, and he was sad when it burned out. Tonight, he had chosen the blue, because it always looked so neat on the Christmas tree. He was beginning to rethink that choice. For one thing, blue wasn’t very bright. Instead of lighting up the room, like that nice gold bulb, it almost seemed to darken it more, as if its feeble, eerie glow only underlined the darkness, instead of driving it away. And it heightened the shadows, punctuating and warping them. He didn’t like it. But it was too late, now. Mommy and Daddy were sleeping, and he didn’t want to wake them up for something as foolish, as childish, as changing the nightlight color. They would think he was just a kid, instead of a whole, grown-up six-year-old.
     He watched the objects in his room, growing ever more uneasy. What was that, in the corner? That strange, twisted lump, like a monster, hunched over and drooling in the darkness. And what was that noise – in the closet?! Was the closet door shut? It must’ve been! Surely he could not have forgotten to shut the closet door! And what was that, there, on the floor? Long and slithery, like some great snake, crawling out from under his bed? He huddled under the covers, leaving just enough of a space to allow his peeping eyes to keep watch. Mommy and Daddy had told him that there were no such things as monsters. Mommy and Daddy had said that the loud whooshing noise at night was only the furnace, not the sound of the boogie-monster breathing down his neck. They said that all those popping and creaking noises were just the house settling, not strange creatures creeping up on him as he slept. Mommy and Daddy said there were no such things as monsters, but sometimes, Mommy and Daddy were wrong.
     He stared into the corner, where the hunched and drooling monster stared back at him, and heard the great snake slithering across the floor, waiting for him to do something so foolish as go to the bathroom, so it could get him, and eat him. For though monsters ate all kinds of things, they loved the taste of little boy best. All the stories said so. The blue glow of the little nightlight wasn’t strong enough to keep the monsters away, as gold had been. In fact, it looked as though the corner-monster was creeping closer, even now! He cowered into his covers, knowing the monster could only perch over his bed and drool. It couldn’t get past the covers. But . . . He’d had two big glasses of water before bed, and he really, really had to go to the bathroom! What was worse – to leap out of bed and be devoured, or to have Mommy and Daddy discover his wet bedding in the morning, and look at him in shameful disappointment, giving him that speech about being too old to wet the bed.
     What could he do, what could he do? His growing fear was not helping his need to go to the bathroom. It was making it worse. Then, he thought of something! Why, if he could only leap out of the bed, across the snake, and lunge for the bedroom light! That would be enough light to drive the hateful monsters away! But could he make it? The light was behind the corner-monster, past the snake, clear across the room! Surely he couldn’t make it. But he had to try – or face a night of wet bed sheets and parental lectures come morning. Finally, after long deliberation, his need to use the potty made Timmy brave. With a battle cry, he tossed back the covers, and leapt from the bed. His little bare feet hit the floor, but not far enough. He tripped over the snake, and it immediately wound itself around his ankles as he kicked and struggled. The slow corner-monster turned to get him. In desperation, yelling all the while, he reached out, seizing the first thing he grabbed, the comforting plastic of his whiffle-ball bat. This mighty weapon in hand, he battled the horrid corner-monster, kicking wildly at the snake around his feet, battering the hulking monster. CRASH!! And the monster’s head flew across the room, and BANG! And he struck the thing’s tough, solid arm, and SLAM! And he beat the critter’s body to a lump of bruises with his bat. Turning his attentions to the snake, he beat it to the floor – WHAMWHAMWHAMWHAM! “Take that!” He yelled in his little boy voice. “AND THAT! AND THAT!” He hollered.
     Suddenly, with a slam, his door flew open, and the lights blazed on. He turned to look, and thank God, it was Mommy and Daddy, come to rescue him from the awful monsters!
     But Mommy and Daddy sure didn’t look very relieved to see he was okay, that he’d defended himself from the monsters – quite bravely, he thought – until they could come save him. In fact, Mommy and Daddy looked pretty mad. He looked around the room. Why – where were the monsters? The big, drooling one from the corner – it was his chair, with his school bag atop it, school clothes draping from it. Well, the bag sat across the room, now, having been swatted there with his swing. And the snake – just an old blanket, dragged out from under the bed when he was searching for something that morning. Downcast, he looked to Mommy and Daddy’s angry faces.
     “What is all this noise in here, young man?” Daddy demanded, hair all sleep-mussed, face naked without his glasses.
     “You’ve got school in the morning! You should be asleep, Timothy!” His Mommy announced, hair in rollers, bare feet sticking out from her nightdress.
     “But, I hadda use the bathroom, and there were monsters, and they was really big and scary and I got my bat and I foughted them off, Mommy, and they was really scary, but I din’t cry, I swung an I hitted them and –“
     “That’s enough, young man.” Daddy said. “How many times do we have to tell you, there’s no such things as monsters?” He looked very tired and mad. Timmy looked down.
     “I sorry.” Timmy said.
     They marched him off to the bathroom, and put him back to bed, and Mommy tucked him back in and gave him another kiss, and Daddy gave him a kiss, too. Daddy said, “We’re not mad, Timmy. You just scared us, with all that noise. Now go back to sleep, buddy. You’ll be safe.”
     The left the room again with “I love yous” following them out.     “And remember, buckaroo, there’s no such things as monsters.”
     “Okay, Daddy.” Timmy said. “I love you too, Daddy.” Daddy shut out the lights, and closed the door.
     Timmy snuggled into the covers, and closed his eyes, then opened them to look warily around the room. Mommy and Daddy said there were no such things as monsters, but sometimes, Mommy and Daddy were wrong.

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